


You're Holding Back

by flashrevolver



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Porn, This was supposed to be a drabble, angst porn, bottom gabe, thats the devil tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 02:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashrevolver/pseuds/flashrevolver
Summary: mcreyes....."drabble" based on #26 on this prompt listhttp://mymiscfandomimagines.tumblr.com/post/154996877352/drabble-listthis is completely unbetad so if there are mistakes pls forgive me





	You're Holding Back

“You're holding back,” Reyes growls roughly against Jesse’s ear, one hand gripping the back of the boy’s shirt and one pressing the boy’s arm into his sweaty spine. Jesse is holding back. He can't help it. There's a restraint in his muscles, like a safety he can't seem to turn off. Reyes lets go and hops off of him all at once, and the cool air hits Jesse’s damp back in a wave that feels more like absence than relief. “You do that in the field and it’ll kill you.”

Jesse’s mouth is bleeding, and he’s not sure if it’s from the part where the commander kneed him in the teeth or the part where he damn near bit his own tongue off getting his chin slammed into the ground. Reyes doesn't hold back. He doesn't hold a single punch here that he would deliver in a real fight, and Jesse’s head is spinning. He can't tell if it's from pain, blood loss, a concussion, or the way Commander Reyes’s fingers left a bruise around his wrist.

He shows up black and blue to the med bay, again, and gets nothing more than a comically sympathetic gaze from a medic before he's told to sit under a biotic field and all the bruises and cuts from the last hour dissipate. The pain in his chest remains, but he doesn't tell the medic about that.

-

“You're holding back,” Gabe pants against Jesse’s neck, and digs his nails into his back. He is holding back. He's containing his love and his lust and his _rage_ because if he lets one bullet fly the rest will follow. Even he isn't sure where the anger stems from—maybe he's scared to analyze himself deeply enough to find out. Maybe it's that very fear of his own emotions that’s causing the anger.

He fucks into Gabe steadily, a controlled rhythm, hitting the man’s prostate on every single thrust. He wants Gabriel to come. He wants the man to shake against him and bite his shoulder and stiffen up and climax around him so that they can _not_ say “I love you, goodnight” before passing out. He wants to feel the air in the room get colder as the sweat dries on their foreheads and they pull away from each other and sleep alone in the same bed. He needs that final justification that he's fucked his all to hell, and that he's right to leave like he's planning to do in the morning.

“Jess,” Gabe whispers. He can sense it, and Jesse can tell. He can tell from the way he shivers and clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut. Gabe can sense that Jesse is leaving him, if not physically then emotionally. “Please, Jesse, I–”

He doesn't say it.

“You _what_ Reyes?”

Gabe’s eyes snap open at the cold tone, and there's a flash of hurt, of vulnerability, before he sets his jaw and tears stripes down Jesse’s back with his nails.

“I didn't invite you here to feel like I'm fucking a robot. Either give me all you've got or get the fuck out of here.”

The double meaning doesn't escape Jesse. _Give me all you’ve got or get the fuck out of here._

Jesse’s finger hovers over that metaphorical safety, the one that's kept his emotions in check for years. _Just because I want to shoot him right here right now_ , Jesse thinks, _doesn't mean I should_. Gabriel mutters something under his breath, and Jesse’s head jerks to stare at him. He's sure he heard him wrong.

“What did you just say to me?” he asks, voice almost a whisper.

“I called you a fucking coward,” Gabe spits, and it lights Jesse’s skin on fire, “because you are one.” His thrusts have slowed to almost a stop, the lines on his back burning. The switch flips. He flicks the safety off, and then he’s seeing red as tears well up in his eyes, and he backhands Gabriel hard across the face. He barely has time to register the look of shock on the other man’s face before he's shouting, hips picking up their pace and then some, punctuating his every word.

“What do you want from me?” Jesse shouts, and his throat is already tight. “I fuckin’ love you! Is that enough for you? Is that what you wanna hear? That's all I've fuckin’ got. I'm a goddamned idiot, I know.”

One tear splashes against Gabe’s bare chest as Jesse pounds into him. It doesn't take the man under him long to come once Jesse gets a hand on his dick, and Jesse’s not surprised. He doesn't make a single sound, which is different than usual, but everything else is the same. His thighs quake, his eyes roll back for a split second before they close. For a climax, it’s incredibly anticlimactic. Jesse comes, too, his body betraying him as he chases a sort pleasure an orgasm can't give him.

Gabe doesn't say a word to him. Not then, and not at 2 AM when Jesse finally rolls out of the cold bed to leave. Leave.

There's no note. There's no goodbye.

-

Jesse is drunk already when he gets a call about the explosion at the Swiss HQ. The blow is softened, but still rings in his ears endlessly.

He has dreams for the next two or ten nights or weeks about Reyes. _Give me all you’ve got or get the fuck out of here_. Jesse had done both, but he wishes he'd done neither.

-

“You're holding back,” Reaper chokes, and it's those words that make Jesse realize why. He's got one hand wrapped around the man’s throat, and the other holds Peacekeeper to the temple of the ivory mask. The man’s only black claws have his right hand in a vice-grip, but they're not trying to pull his hand away. “I told you if you did that in the field it would get you killed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jesse begs weakly, and it should've come out as a shout, a barked order, but it doesn't. It can't. Reaper laughs below him, and the sound echoes in the alleyway almost comically.

“You're still a coward, aren't you?” he coughs, and Jesse pulls the trigger as soon as the word “coward” registers in his head.

 

Jesse is silent, eyes wide as the trigger pulls to its first click and stops.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Reaper commands.

The safety. He didn't turn the safety off.

The man below him—Gabriel, he reminds himself—dissipates into smoke and drifts up past the gutters and windows of the building he was being held against. Jesse falls forward, and his gun falls from his hand. He wonders if he'd imagined this whole thing. He knows it was real when he catches a glimpse of a bruise encircling his wrist.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave more prompts for me. can't guarantee I'll do them all but I'll do. some. thank u for reading I love you


End file.
